


all that and a cup of tea

by boonki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Family is complicated, Fluff, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Internalized Homophobia, Librarian Obi-Wan, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Anakin Skywalker, Slow Burn, ahsoka is the best friend we all need, anakin is figuring himself out, college student anakin, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonki/pseuds/boonki
Summary: His eyes come back to his table.There is a cup of tea.Anakin is mostly sure that he did not bring a cup of tea with him.Which means one of three things:He somehow managed to sleepwalk to the nearest cafe, order a cup of tea and pay for it, and sleepwalk all the way back without dying.He has temporary amnesia and actually did bring a cup of tea with him and managed to not drink any of it while he was reading earlier.Or, someone left him a cup of tea while he was sleeping.He’s honestly not sure which option he prefers.ORAs Anakin navigates a complicated relationship with his mother, his first quarter of college, and a massive crush on the night shift librarian, he finds so much more than he originally bargained for. This is a story about growing up, learning how to love and be loved, and finding peace in difficult decisions. It is a story of self-acceptance, strong friendships, and of course, many, many cups of tea.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Poe Dameron/Finn, but like in the background
Comments: 30
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HI EVERYONE HAPPY VALENTINES DAY
> 
> So this is my first longer-ish fic that I've actually put a good amount of work into and I'm super excited about it! It's a very personal story to me and one that I hold near and dear, so please be kind to Anakin as he figures things out.
> 
> As a warning, this story will deal with homophobic family- and before you come brandishing your pitchforks at me, Schmi is a great mom, and Anakin loves her a ton. But it's possible to love someone dearly, be a fantastic parent, and still hurt them unintentionally.
> 
> This fic has been beta'd by a lovely group of people: @suchacommotion, @curarechai, and @foxtail-magic THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH <3 I appreciate all your comments and feedback! And thank you in advance for the many typos you guys will find in the chapters that I have yet to write. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!! Kudos and comments keep me going. I smile like an idiot at all of them.

The first time Anakin notices a boy, he is nine, and fascinated by the way it feels to touch. The other boy, eleven, also part of the free after-school program he belonged to, had leaned against him during reading time. It had been early summer, and both the boys were wearing tank tops. The surface of Anakin’s arm feels like fire where they touched, and the rest of him is melting. 

The second time Anakin notices a boy, he is twelve, and growing aware of his own feelings. All the other boys were starting to become self-conscious speaking to girls, whispering to each other about dating and who-likes-who. Instead, Anakin couldn't help but stare at his science teacher’s lips, how the button down stretched over his arms, the definition of his thighs beneath grey slacks. He doesn’t tell the other boys about this. He knows that this is wrong, and isn’t to be shared with anyone. 

And then he is fourteen, and being called gay is an insult, one he takes part in, throwing the ugly word in the faces of his friends as a joke, ignoring the growing part of him that knows this insult belongs to him, and only to him. When one of his friends comes out to him during a night under the stars, a fake campsite set up in his backyard, he scoffs and rolls away,  _ “as long as you won’t jump me, man.”  _

He comes out to his mom at sixteen after she found his porn open on his laptop, and it is a disaster. She says she loves him always, is calm and collected. But he can see the steel behind her eyes, can’t help but notice how she doesn’t speak to him for days, and avoids talking about his love life if possible. There’s a gap between them now, and Anakin eats the guilt for dinner, wondering why he’s lost the love of his mother by showing who he really is. He wasn’t ready, but there’s no going back now.

But there sort of is, and so he dates a girl, his best friend really, to make his mom happy for the next two years. Dear Padme knows him too well after so many years of friendship, and he’s glad he never has to say anything to her about his sexuality. They’ve never done anything but kissed, but he loves her for her constant companionship and loyalty. Maybe just not in the way he should. But his mom is overjoyed. 

And then he is accepted to college, far away from home. Seattle, of all places. He’s going for a robotics degree and to land a stable and well-paying job, but some small, squashed part of him hopes that he’ll be able to finally be free in the city. Free to be wrong, free to hide himself from his mother, free to forgo any future family he would ever have, but...free. He feels as though he’s been treading water all this time, nearly drowning, and now it’s time to crawl onto shore. 

_________

He is still half asleep when his best friend Ahsoka barges in, letting the door slam open against the wall. The sunlight streams in through the windows, his curtains half closed, creating a warm glow in his dorm room, and she is yelling about something. He yawns and nestles deeper into his pillow, kicking his feet out from underneath the duvet to let them cool off. When he goes to bed he’s so cold, but nearly always wakes up feeling like he’s been in a sauna. (It’s probably the heated comforter his mom bought him before he left for college.)

“-and Ventress said ‘well that’s your half of the room, and this is mine’ and I said-” she huffs down at him, yanking his covers off, making him squawk. “Are you even listening to me?” 

He’s glad he wore boxers to bed. “Jesus, Ahsoka, yes. What time is it?” The alarm clock is still face down from yesterday morning, where he had knocked it over in irritation.

Her eyes open comically wide in exasperation. “It’s nearly noon, Anakin, and we have class together in half an hour. Put something on,”-she shoots him a look when he starts to grin-“no, not your sweats.” 

“What’s wrong with my sweats?” He asks, stretching his arms out above his head. 

With her whole arm, Ahsoka points to the empty beer bottles sitting in a ring around his trash can that had made it close enough to the bin to not necessitate actually picking up, but because they’re not actually in the bin, they probably won’t be taken out for months. 

“You were literally crying and drunk the other night because you saw a pretty boy. And if you want to meet pretty boys, you have to look nice.” She retracts her pointing and crosses her arms, then, with a look at his closet, uncrosses them to dig through his clothes. “Black jeans, big shocker, and black hoodies, wow, and-” she picks up one of his thin sweaters that had clearly seen some love and rounds on him with a look of fake shock “-is that a dark brown I see? Some actual color?” 

Anakin is sitting up now, watching her with amusement. “Fine, fine, I get your point. Give me ten and I’ll meet you outside, okay?” 

“How about, since that means you’re going to be late, I’ll just run over to the arts building  _ now _ and pick up some coffee so we’re both alive for class?” 

“You’re a genius, Ahsoka, top of your class, nobel peace prize winner-” 

“Real pants, Anakin.” 

He grins at the back of her head as she slams the door shut behind her. 

_________

The air outside is crisp and cool, sharp inside Anakin’s lungs. The gentle murmur of talking students carries in the breeze, and when Anakin looks up at the path in front of him, the leaves on the trees are just starting to turn yellow: a promise of the fall ahead. He is officially late to class, as Ahsoka had foretold. He doesn’t feel that bad about it, it’s still the first week and Anakin can still try and pass his tardiness off on his inability to navigate campus as a newbie. They share a required English class, one that all freshmen have to take to graduate. If Anakin is being completely honest, he is entirely dedicated to putting in the least amount of effort possible to pass; essays, words, and books have never been his forte and likely never will be. 

But if he has to take it, he’s glad that he can take it with Ahsoka. They had known each other growing up in public school in their heartwarming town of Chandler, Arizona, but always on the periphery, never in the same orbit. It wasn’t until they figured out they were going to the same university in the fall that they had actually become friends. Like two peas in a pod, they did everything together the spring before graduating high school, pulling all sorts of crazy senior pranks on their teachers as fond goodbyes. Anakin smiles to himself, remembering. Somehow, even though it’s still only the first week, he misses his little hometown in the middle of nowhere, misses home, his own bed. But being on campus had taken a weight off his chest, and he’s been floating around, high off his ass with freedom ever since arriving. 

As an exercise in that freedom, Ahsoka had dragged him to a party the other night. As soon as they stumbled through the door, ready to beeline to find some drinks, there had been two guys just making out on a couch in the living room near the entrance, so nonchalantly, not a care in the world. Anakin had been caught staring, feeling frozen in place with eyes wide open; they probably thought he was some weirdo, or homophobic, but really he had been on the verge of tears. Later, Ahsoka had to haul his ass home and force water down his throat, he was so drunk. Vaguely, he remembers droning on about how  _ they were kissing, Ahsoka, in front of everyone, like it was no big deal, like being gay is just, just… a thing here, no I don’t want any more water ‘Soka, I’ve peed like seven times tonight.  _

The fact remains though, even with how open everyone is in this town, that there’s a shadow looming behind him, trailing his movements. He’ll open his mouth to flirt with a guy and some other presence will force it shut for him, and every middle aged woman that looks like his mom sends his heart stumbling. More than once, he’s wandered past the LGBTQ+ clubs and smiled tightly at the members, too scared to introduce himself, a weird sort of imposter syndrome and lingering homophobia acting as building blocks to create a barrier between them. There’s still so much darkness. 

The door to the art building where their class is hosted swings open easily, and Anakin is met with warm air. There’s no one left in the hallway, which means Anakin will probably disrupt the class a bit on his way in, which means Ahsoka will rant at him after class about it, which is probably completely justified. He pushes the classroom door open with his shoulder, wincing at the loud squeak it emits, and avoids eye contact with the handful of students who turn back to see who walked in, beelining his way to the seat Ahsoka saved him. She purses her lips and glares at him before handing him his coffee and his copy of their syllabus. 

He pulls out a fresh notebook and one pen, leaving his backpack pretty empty afterwards, and shifts his focus to what’s going on in the front of the room. 

The teacher, a beautiful woman who’s introduced herself as Professor Ti on the whiteboard behind her, is talking through the syllabus and their assignments for the quarter. There is a series of essays due over the ten weeks; they’ll be required to pick a new book each week and write a short piece on what theme the author chose and how it shows up in the plot and character development. In theory, it shouldn’t be too difficult- they have a prepared list of themes to pull from and the essays only have to be one page single spaced, but reading one book a week is going to take so much of his time. He’s always been a slow reader, easily distracted and quick to give up; graphic novels and comics had always been more of his thing. Ahsoka seems to catch on to his dismay, he can feel her worried eyes on his face. 

He sighs out of his nose, resigning himself to a whole quarter spent at the library. 

_________

The gym is humid and vaguely smells of feet. Ahsoka scrunches her nose up when they walk in, digging through her bag to find her student ID to scan herself in. Anakin follows her lead, trying to take in his surroundings and missing the scanner by a few inches, correcting himself when it doesn’t beep after a few moments. There’s so many people, so many  _ fit _ people, and so many clubs tabling in the lobby. It’s a bit overwhelming and Anakin has to remind himself that he does actually want to get in better shape and learn how to fight, and this is the only way to do it. Another part of him is humming in excitement with all the commotion. 

Earlier that week, when they had walked through the freshmen fair together looking for some sort of athletic club to join, the taekwondo club had grabbed their attention with their flashy demonstrations and loud yelling. Ahsoka had grabbed his sleeve and yanked him to a halt, her wide eyes wide and sparkling. There was no way Anakin could’ve told her no. 

So here they are, at the gym. 

“The flyer said Mat Room B…” Ahsoka trails off, darting her head around for a map, or someone who looks like they work here. “Mat Room B, Mat Room B… huh. Do you think it’s on another floor?” 

Anakin glances at one set of the stairwells. The gym is four stories: basement level holding the locker rooms, weight machines, and dance floors, the first floor with the basketball gyms, aerobic room, and climbing gym, the second floor with more dance studios and another basketball gym, and the fourth and final floor with a running rack and more weight machines. The place is stupidly massive. Not that Anakin is complaining, he is actively benefiting from their school having such a massive athletics budget. He is curious to see the mysterious cafeteria saved for only the student athletes though, to see if it’s just local legend or if the football team is really that privileged. 

“Uh…” Anakin says, intelligently. 

“Oh!” Ahsoka interjects, pointing to a sign behind a hidden stairwell leading to the basement. “There’s a sign for the mat rooms!” 

“Next to the locker rooms too, nice.” Anakin adds. 

They make their way downstairs, Ahsoka practically vibrating with excitement. Anakin looks at her through the corner of his eye, smiling softly to himself. It’s good to see her so happy, even if they haven’t even made it to the class yet. 

“Do you think we get to kick each other?” She asks, grinning toothily. 

“If we do, and you die, do I get to keep your stuff?” He leans in and teases. 

She pushes him away, laughing. “Only my stuffed animals since you’ll need something to cuddle when you die alone.” He pouts, fake-hurt. “Okay, I’ll meet you over in the mat room, I’m going to go change first.” 

He gives a noncommittal  _ mmkay _ noise and heads over to the room, already wearing shorts and a t-shirt comfortable enough to move around in. The students tabling earlier had fancy uniforms on, but seeing as it is his first day, he doesn’t have one, which he really wants to rectify, since he’s going to stand out as a newbie the whole practice. Which should be fine - he  _ is  _ a newbie - but he doesn’t like how that makes him feel. 

The hallway to the room with the equipment closet is buzzing with people. Some are hugging like old friends, some stretching, some awkwardly standing there waiting for the class to begin, and some changing into their uniforms. He doesn’t know who to talk to or who to introduce himself to to sign himself in. 

Luckily, one of the girls standing by herself in the hallway saves him from having to speak first. 

“You’re new too?” She’s tall, but still a little shorter than Anakin, wearing her dark brown hair in a series of buns on the back of her head, and wearing a comfortable looking set of tan sweats with a matching hoodie. Her eyes are a sharp, deep hazel. If Anakin were straight, he would find her very attractive. 

“Uh, yeah.” Wow, he’s really on top of his sentences today. 

“Wonderful. I’m Rey,” she sticks out a hand to shake, “and you?” 

He takes it. “Anakin.” 

She nods at him, dropping his grip and putting her hands on her hips, pressing her lips together.

“Do you know anyone here?” She asks. 

He gestures vaguely behind his shoulder before realizing she has no idea who Ahsoka is and doesn’t know that he’s waiting for someone. She follows the movement and quirks an eyebrow. “My friend, Ahsoka, she’s coming with me. She’s changing, I mean, she’s getting changed. Her clothes.” He coughs lightly, clearing his throat. “But no, we don’t know anyone. Do you?” 

“No.” She answers, then reconsiders. “Well, yes. I just try not to know them. My two friends Finn and Poe should be on their way soon, but god knows they’re probably going to be late.” 

He doesn’t know what to do with that so he just bobs his head and clasps his hands in front of him. 

Thank god for Ahsoka and her beautiful, beautiful timing. 

“Made a friend already, Skyguy?” She appears from behind him, stepping in between Rey and Anakin. 

“It’s not going to be a thing, ‘Soka, my name is Anakin.” He mumbles. 

“Would you prefer Ani?” 

He can feel himself reddening, and without even looking at her he knows she has a shit-eating grin on her face. 

“I’m Ahsoka, his friend from high school.” 

Rey beams at her. “I’m Rey, his new friend from taekwondo.” 

Anakin somehow feels like the third wheel. 

“Young padawans, gather around, time to begin.” An older man, his hair streaked with silver and tied back in a bun, appears in the doorway, holding his arms out wide and gesturing for everyone to come in. “Shoes and socks off, and no jewelry, please.” He adds, which sends a few new students rushing back into the hallway. Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rey all kick off their shoes and socks, making their way into the mat room. The floor is plush beneath them, but hard enough to hurt if you fell. The senior members line up at the front of the room, but the trio awkwardly lingers near the back, unsure what to do with themselves. 

“What’s a padawan?” Anakin whispers to them. 

Ahsoka shrugs. 

“No idea,” Rey replies. 

Two young men burst into the room, their faces flushed in a way that can only be generated by frantic lateness, and zoom towards Rey. Anakin assumes these are the friends she was talking about. 

“Rey!” One of them calls, grinning from ear to ear. He’s tall, black, and has the nicest skin Anakin has ever seen. 

“You’re late,” she answers, eyebrows pulled together sternly. 

The other man, with dark curls and a devilish pull to his smile, hooks an arm around her shoulders, shaking her and her mock consternation. “We wanted to make sure you missed us, sunshine.” 

Ahsoka coughs lightly, alerting the two of them to their presence. 

“Finn, Poe, this is Anakin and Ahsoka, my two new friends, who will gladly replace you if you’re late again.” She introduces them, sildling up next to Anakin and grabbing his arm like they’re about to take a stroll through a park, or a ball. Ahsoka glances at where Rey’s hands make contact with his bare skin, lingering a little too long. The discomfort must not show on his face, because Finn and Poe both greet them excitedly, talking over and through each other. 

The instructor breaks up their little group. “Hello, younglings. You all must be new. So tall, too. Well,” he ganders a look down at Ahsoka, “most of you.” He can tell the master didn’t mean any harm in it, but Ahsoka bristles next to him. “I’m Master Qui-gon Jinn, though you can call me Coach Jinn, or just Coach if it’s any easier. Have any of you practiced taekwondo before?” 

They all shake their heads no. 

He hums, stroking his beard. “No worries, we’ll have you all sparring in no time.” And with that, he bows lightly, stepping away from them, clapping his hands to gain the attention of the whole club. “Alright, let’s begin stretching. Everyone grab a partner and find a place on the wall.” 

Rey immediately grabs his hand. Something uncomfortable prickles in the base of Anakin’s stomach, something that warns him he shouldn’t give into her so easily, that he’s probably sending signals he doesn’t mean to send. And yet, a few moments later, he finds himself holding one of her legs up into the air, resting it on his shoulder, her back against the wall. It’s...intimate. 

“...Four, three, two, one, and let go. Other leg,” Coach Jinn calls out. Anakin drops her right leg and readies himself for her left, not able to meet her eye as he hoists it up onto his shoulder. She’s slightly more flexible on this side, so he’s standing inches closer than he was before. 

“So what are you going to study? You’re a freshman too, right?” She asks, her breath hot on his face. 

He nods. “Robotics, hopefully. I like building things. You?” 

“Environmental Sciences. I think it’d be fun to be a park ranger someday.” She leans on him a little, stretching further, bringing their faces a little closer. “I know a thing or two about handling an animal.” 

_ Is she flirting with him? Oh fuck, she’s flirting with him _ . Heat flashes through his entire body, but not the good kind, the kind that makes you wonder if you need to sit down for a moment or take fever medication and hydrate. His arms are suddenly too big for his body and he wonders if she can feel how clammy his palms are. 

“...Four, Three…” The instructor’s voice rings out from the other side of the room.

He tries to laugh along, but the sound is more strangled-and-in-pain. 

“...Two, and one. Alright, switch partners. After we finish stretching, we’ll pull out the pads and start kicking.” 

He drops her leg and positions himself up against the wall, her hands suddenly underneath his right thigh. 

Why couldn’t Finn have been his partner? 

_________

After the gym and its turbulent practice, he meanders over to one of the low and unimposing school libraries. Dim light glows out of frosted windows, the type of which Anakin had never really understood the purpose of; aren’t windows supposed to show what’s on the other side? But their uniform white gleam always felt comforting once he’s inside, secure. When he had checked the online catalogue earlier, it said they had a copy of The Hobbit: his first book of choice for the reading assignment. He had always liked the story, liked the adventure and worldbuilding, all the wizards and dragons and riveting conquests, so he figures it’s a good place to start. 

The place is absolutely deserted, and rightfully so. It’s still syllabus week, so all the freshmen are still partying, and the rest of the students are napping in preparation for the coming sleep deprivation the quarter will no doubt wreak on them. Being in the library this early feels like he’s intruding somehow, like being at a mall before it opens, or staying too long after the credits of a movie. 

He sidles up to the front desk, trying to catch the eye of the employee. The man is black, bald, and doesn’t look very happy to see him. His barely legible name tag reads  _ Mace Windu.  _ “Can I help you?” 

Anakin tries not to be affronted by his tone, forcing himself to school his features into something friendly. He’s going to live here the rest of the quarter, so he might as well make friends. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for a copy of The Hobbit. The catalogue said you guys have one…”

The man makes a  _ hmph _ noise, and returns his attention to his computer screen. “Well try the fiction section then.” 

“Right.” Anakin stares at him. 

Well that motherfucker wasn’t helpful at all. 

He excuses himself and ducks to his left, taking a deep breath and taking stock of the place. There’s two stories, one above ground and one below, with rows and rows of books taking up nearly every inch of floor space. On the current floor, around the edges of the room are desks facing the wall that have privacy boxes in between each seat. Charming. 

Anakin wonders if all the libraries look like this. Someone had told him there are sixteen on campus, but he finds that hard to believe. 

Dust seems to linger in the air, floating in miserable particles around him, guiding him through the narrow shelves. For the most part, the books seem untouched, part of the building itself. He is lost somewhere in a nonfiction section, the spines reading out something about oceans as he walks by, and he drags a finger across the top of one particularly dusty book, grimacing at the residue on his skin. His stomach growls loudly, and Anakin winces, sure that the sound reverberates loudly in the echochamber that this building is. 

When he reaches the end of the corridor, he nearly gets run over by an employee dragging a cart of books to be reshelved, and jumps in his skin at the sight. The man is slightly shorter than him, but sturdy, auburn hair tousled back in a way that only running your hands through your hair continuously can achieve. He makes a  _ sorry  _ face, and Anakin is startled by his eyes, a wonderful shade of grey blue. 

He’s...very attractive. 

The man’s commitment to reshelving the books ends their curt interaction though, and he is gone before Anakin can even consider saying something. The librarian hangs a right into the narrow shelves, turning the cart around the sharp corner like a pro. Blinking hard a few times to process that...odd moment, Anakin continues his search. 

The fiction section is nowhere to be found, so he tries the basement, where the air is noticeably cooler, the damp ground outside creating a natural icebox. He regrets not bringing a thicker jacket, only wearing a pair of sweats (and sends a thought of apology to Ahsoka, god bless her soul) and a thin hoodie, his standard uniform. 

He passes a student huddled up underneath one of the desks, sleeping peacefully. It’s like passing a version of his future self. He shudders. 

The fiction section hides in the back corner of the floor, with one actual table in the middle of the shelves. Setting his backpack down on the table to claim it (not like anyone was rushing into the library though), he starts scanning the shelves for Tolkien. He finds the book with ease, its loved and dog-eared pages confirming that it was a good choice. 

Now to sit down and start reading. 

_________

He is laying on something solid and hard, and can already tell his neck is going to hurt like a motherfucker for the rest of the day. 

His eyes blink open: a copy of The Hobbit, his hand, and a cup of tea greet him. Only two of those things belong to him. 

When he sits up his back pops loudly, and his muscles ache from sleeping in such a weird position. The time on his phone reads 5:12 AM. Great. He’ll have time to go back to his dorm and actually sleep in a bed before his 10 AM class. 

Taking a brief look around, the library is deathly still, all the chairs empty as far as he can see, and the general energy of the place reveals that he is entirely alone, save for whatever poor soul is working at this hour. Everyone is probably out partying- it is still syllabus week after all. Anakin regrets not being there with them, but flashbacks to his drunk escapade with Ahsoka the other night, and the horrible hangover he had the next day, and then does not regret it. 

His eyes come back to his table. 

There is a cup of tea.

Anakin is mostly sure that he did not bring a cup of tea with him. 

Which means one of three things: 

He somehow managed to sleepwalk to the nearest cafe, order a cup of tea and pay for it, and sleepwalk all the way back without dying. 

He has temporary amnesia and actually  _ did _ bring a cup of tea with him and managed to not drink any of it while he was reading earlier. 

Or, someone left him a cup of tea while he was sleeping.

He’s honestly not sure which option he prefers. 

Opening his phone up, he takes a quick picture of the tea and sends it to Ahsoka with a ‘ _ this you?’  _ in the caption. He would honestly be surprised if she responded at this hour, let alone brought him a beverage and then left him to sleep peacefully, but he really doesn’t know who else it could be. His only friends at this point are Ahsoka and tentatively Rey. Maybe Finn and Poe by association. 

And maybe because he’s extremely tired and has thrown all caution to the wind, or just hasn’t thought through the terrible outcomes of drinking randomly sourced liquids, but he takes a sip: it’s hot, and tastes like bergamot.  _ Earl grey? _ The taste sits heavy in his mouth, and when he doesn’t convulse or break out in hives after a few moments, he takes another sip. 

It’s actually quite good. 

_________

**_From: Snippies 9:36 AM_ **

_ umm no?? why would i bring you tea?  _

**_From: Snippies 9:52 AM_ **

_ wait _

_ anakin _

_ did you actually drink it _

**_From Snippies 10:01 AM_ **

_ ANAKIN? _

_ _________ _

**_From: Padme (a queen) 11:23 AM_ **

_ Hey- I just wanted to check in and see how school is going? Give me a call, it’s been a while since we’ve caught up. I miss you :) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap two to come very soon! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change in rating! 
> 
> Hello everyone!! Here is part two!! I love this chapter. 
> 
> Beta read by my lovely and absolutely wonderful friends @suchacommotion, @curarechai, and @foxtail-magic!! They are the only reason I don't have paragraph long sentences. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make me (●♡◡♡●)

Professor Ti slides his paper on his desk facedown, and Anakin immediately flips it over. A red 87% is circled on the top right corner: not great, but not terrible either. Relief floods through him at having one paper down. Only nine more to go. Ahsoka does the same next to him, and beams. Predictably, the red mark on her essay reads 100%, and Anakin is caught between wanting to roll his eyes and congratulate her on a job well done. The class buzzes with hushed conversation, everyone commenting on their grades and paper topics, what books they had read and what they thought. The professor is still rifling through a stack of essays to return, taking slow steps through the long lecture hall. 

“I can’t believe you did your essay on The Hobbit,” Ahsoka murmurs, snickering at him before glancing down at his grade. 

His mouth drops open, affronted. “You literally did yours on the first Harry Potter book. Kettle, meet the pot.” 

Her mouth pulls to one side in an effort to hide her smile. “Bunch of nerds.” 

He snorts, and shoves his paper into his mostly empty backpack. In high school, Ahsoka had always given him a ton of flack for not utilizing folders or a pencil case, but he doesn’t see the purpose of them; as long as everything fits in there, he’s good to go. He turns his attention back to Ahsoka, who is paper-clipping her essay to her English binder. 

“You wanna come read with me at the library tonight?”

She gives him a side eye. “Are you really going to spend every night there? Can’t you, I don’t know, buy the books and read them in your dorm?” Right as the words leave her mouth, she stiffens and a thin layer of guilt lays on her face. She knows he can’t afford that. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said…” she bites her lip, “well, surely you can check them out, though, right?”

A long suffering sigh escapes him. “If I read in my dorm I am definitely going to fall asleep and never get anything done. Besides,” he adds, “I like the library.” 

Her eyebrows raise clear off her forehead. “ _You_ like the library? Are you sure there wasn’t anything in that tea?” she cocks her head, “also, if I remember correctly you also fell asleep there, too.” 

He shoots her a withering look. She’s right, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. Before this, he honestly doesn’t ever remember stepping foot in a library, save for maybe when his mom would drag him in as a child. And he _did_ fall asleep in the library. But he doesn’t want to press it, because he knows the magnetic pull he feels is all because of the mystery cup of tea. 

“Anyways, I can’t, sorry, I have a poli-sci meeting to go to. If anyone leaves you tea again though,” her expression is full of concern, “please don’t drink it.” She flips her binder shut and slides it into her bag. 

He opens his mouth to respond, and is cut off by Professor Ti rapping on the table at the front of the room, effectively silencing all the commotion. Ahsoka shoots him a sympathetic look and he holds up a thumbs-up. He flips the lip of his laptop open to take notes on the day’s lecture, shifting in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Thank the heavens Ahsoka brought him coffee again. 

_______

The library is more or less the same when he goes back later that night, the sun long set behind the mountains on the horizon. As the days roll by, a few students seem to be joining him in the fiction section, and he worries that he’ll actually need to fend for his table soon. He knows it’s silly, but it has kind of become _his_ reading table. He’s attached. 

Windu mans the front desk again tonight, and Anakin edges around the outside of the room, trying to avoid being seen. With a weird sixth sense, discomfort pools in his belly; he can tell Windu is glowering in his direction, burning holes in the side of his skull. He makes Anakin feel guilty of committing a crime somehow. _It’s only been a week_ , Anakin thinks, _how can he dislike me this much in a week?_

He makes his way past the shelves of nonfiction to the set of stairs off in the back corner, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and almost chokes. The cute librarian who almost ran him over is here again, pulling another cart full of books. He swivels in place to grab another book just in time to catch Anakin’s gaze. The librarian’s eyes grow wide, and Anakin snaps his head away, pretending as though he had just been looking around by coincidence. Blushing, he nearly runs down the stairs, and slumps into his seat at his table, squishing his backpack behind him. 

_God, what is with everyone tonight?_

Collecting himself mentally, he pulls off his hoodie and drapes it over the chair behind him before spreading his stuff over the table, effectively claiming it. He keeps an eye on all of it as he gets up to find a new book, however doubtful he is of someone stealing his brick of a laptop. He meanders through the fiction shelves, browsing for his next read. His attentions flits back and forth between the attractive librarian, the novel titles blending together in front of him, and that damn cup of tea that that’s been steeping in the forefront of his mind all week. 

He had jokingly slipped it into conversation during taekwondo practice to Rey, Finn, and Poe, and they all shared Ahsoka’s general sentiment of being shocked that he actually drank it. None of them seemed like they were lying, or trying to cover anything up, and none of them would really have any motivation to leave him tea anyways. Which had left him at a dead-end. Again. 

_Maybe it’s Windu trying to poison him._ He chuckles to himself. 

It honestly could have been a blunder, someone mistaking him for someone else. His eyes slip down at the thought, cool disappointment settling like a fog in his chest. He hopes that isn’t the case; wondering who it is has been a fun rabbit hole to let his mind careen into during dull moments of the day. It feels like having a secret admirer somehow. 

His eyes scan over the endless titles, all blurring together in one way or another: titles in black, author’s name at the bottom, flashy colors, some publishing company. And then a flick of square lettering, of recognition: _The Hunger Games._ He’d read these back in high school after Padme’s never-ending insistence, and only half-listened when she went on her political rants about how the country was on its path to becoming the Capitol. Now, he wishes he paid attention, maybe he could’ve used some of her arguments in his essay. Tugging it out from the shelf, he treads back to his table. 

The chair is rigid and unforgiving, there is no way to be comfortable sitting in it for long stretches of time, but it actually helps Anakin focus, the unforgiving edges lurching him awake when his eyelids begin to droop. One page becomes two, two becomes an entire chapter, an entire chapter becomes the first quarter of the book. 

Katniss is well into the games now. Anakin always thought the games sounded like fun, save for the killing. _Well, maybe...no, Anakin,_ he mentally slaps himself, _you do not murder children._ He must be more tired than he thought.

As the clock continues to tick and the black midnight turns to predawn shades of sleepy indigo, students gather their stuff and shuffle out of the library, leaving Anakin more and more alone, until there is no one left but him and someone sleeping underneath one of the desks. Every time Anakin looks his way, squinting his weary eyes to focus, he feels a small pang of solidarity for the kid. 

His vision is blurry beyond the dark ink of the pages. He slouches forward into the novel, nose squished into the crease. He’s resting his eyes for a moment, that’s all. He’ll be back to reading soon, he’s still got so much to do, and he’s...asleep. 

________

This time, the cup of tea has a yellow sticky note stuck to the side. 

_‘You’re going to get back problems sleeping like that.’_

The handwriting is dense, almost cursive, tall and narrow. Clearly the handwriting of someone who cares about what their handwriting looks like. There’s no name attached anywhere, no hints of who left this for him. On one hand, Anakin is singing with elation that the first time hadn’t been a mistake, but on the other hand, he is frustrated that he still doesn’t know who it is. Either way, he can’t believe that he fell asleep here again. He _is_ going to get back problems sleeping hunched over a big piece of...whatever the hell these desks are made out of. 

Anakin, bleary eyed and semi-conscious, smiling like an idiot, pops the lid off and takes a sniff. Earl grey, again. His earlier, albeit rather minimal, hesitation is nowhere to be found and he tips the cup back, drinking in a big gulp, begging the caffeine to dissolve into his bloodstream quickly. He’s starting to regret staying up so late to read. He rubs at his eyes, half ready to curl up under the table and go back to bed. 

There is no light to tell him what time it is, so he digs his phone out of his pocket. 

7:12 AM. 

The number beams up at him, the screen too bright on his phone. He briefly considers if he has the time to run back to his dorm for a nap before his lecture at nine. He watches the screen blink from 7:12 AM to 7:13 AM, studying the tiny font as if it held the answers to his current problem. 

The decision is made for him, however, by the presence of one very awake Rey, standing across from him. 

Anakin jumps. “Rey, hey,” he clears his throat, “how long have you been standing there?” 

She pulls the seat back, falling into it and leaning forward on the table, smiling at him.

“Not long.” She takes in the sprawl of his materials. “Have you been here all night?”

He shuffles his notebooks and papers together to create a semblance of tidiness, suddenly aware of his mess. “Yeah, trying to get through an English assignment. Why are you here so early?” 

The inside corners of her eyebrows raise, a look of amused pity as she completely ignores his question. And then: 

“Oh my god, is that-” she points to the cup of tea eagerly, her voice raising in excitement “-did they bring you tea again?” She whips her head around to look at the students around them, as if she could guess who it was by simply seeing them. 

He sighs, and spins the cup around by the rim, swirling the liquid inside. “I still have no idea who it is. They left a note this time though,” he says, and hands her the sticky note, eyeing it protectively and she holds it flat, reading it. 

A bark of laughter comes out of her. “Whoever it is, they’re right. You _are_ going to get back problems sleeping here.” 

He slumps further into his chair. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” he lowers his voice, almost mumbling to himself, “you sound like Ahsoka.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.” She hands him the note back, which he carefully sticks to the inside of his English notebook, smoothing it down with care. 

“You never answered my question,” he asks, “what _are_ you doing here so early?” 

She’s smug, looking back and forth between his eyes. “ _Some_ people like to study in the morning, when the brain is fresh. But now I think I’m going to walk you to wherever you’re going, make sure you don’t pass out on the way.” 

He rubs at the back of his neck, the uncomfortable _youshouldntsayyes_ feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. And yet. 

“Uh, sure, I have chem after this, at nine. I could always head there early,” he starts to yawn, continuing to talk through the motion “and we could grab some coffee on the way, I don’t think this tea has enough caffeine to tide me over.” 

“I’d love to get coffee.” She says, and he quickly realizes his mistake. 

He _wants_ to tell her, just stop her and look her in the eye and say: _hey, I think you’re interested in me but I’m really, really gay so this can’t happen._ But the darkness is there, grappling at his honesty, and he is silenced by his panic. Besides, he really doesn’t want to hurt her feelings, she seems genuinely very nice- what good would ruining his first friendship on campus do? 

It could be nice. He could hold her coat when they go shopping, could give her piggy-back rides home after long events, sweet talk her parents and become a part of the family. He’s done it before. And Rey is great, honestly, very full of drive and ambition, not to mention beautiful and athletic- the type of girl to light up a room just by smiling. Anakin’s mom would love her. 

The library man heaves a boulder into that train of thought, effectively derailing him from the thin path he was careening down and into the mud. Whatever he has with her, he wants to be honest; this is why he had been so excited about coming to university, right? To finally be honest with people? 

Fatigue pulls at his edges, in more ways than one, and he gives in.

They walk to get coffee, and she is elated. He blames his mood on exhaustion. 

_______

He paces around his cramped dorm room, picking up trash and clothes as he goes. He finds spare washers and bolts for his small projects littered about the floor, shaking his head at himself as he tries to form piles of things to organize later. 

“Yeah, classes are good, I’m keeping busy,” he answers, absentmindedly fiddling with the strings of a hoodie to throw in the clothes pile, his phone in the crook of his neck. 

“ _That’s good. Remember your studies come first, no partying, okay?”_ His mom is teasing. Sort of. 

“No parties, got it. Although if Ahsoka goes, and I’ve got to take care of her...” he shifts the phone out of his neck and into his hand, trailing off, letting the hypothetical linger between them, making her chuckle. 

“ _Okay, that’s the exception. Make sure she,_ you both _, drink water, that’s very important.”_ Her laughter trails off. He kneels down on the ground to do a scan of the floor. “ _What else have you been up to?”_

A half empty bag of spicy cheetos is hidden underneath his bed. Anakin winces, _gross._ “Uh, Ahsoka and I joined a taekwondo club, it’s the kicking martial art. We’ve only been to a few practices but it’s a lot of fun, and good exercise,” he throws the cheetos in the trash bin, “and I’ve made some friends. Rey- that’s her name- and her friends Finn and Poe, they’re all freshmen too.” 

“ _Rey? Is she pretty?_ ” She asks, playfulness bringing the question to life. 

He tenses, knowing the full implication, and regrets saying anything, frozen in place above the trash bin. 

“Yeah, she’s… she’s got nice eyes.” Anakin makes a face at himself, and goes to sit on his bed. This is going to take all his concentration. Rather, holding himself intact is going to take all his concentration. 

His mom makes a small noise of approval. “ _And she’s just a friend?”_

He plays with the hem of his shirt, studying the loose threads. _“_ Well, I mean I’ve only seen her a few times now, so yeah.” 

_“Don’t be shy, Ani, this is your time to meet people.”_

“Oh my god, mom, I am.” He screws his face up in a grimace, really not wanting to have this conversation with his _mom._ The threads of his shirt fray a little under his repetitive motions. 

She huffs into the receiver. _“Okay, okay, touchy…_ ” 

A thread comes loose completely, dangling limp in his fingers. 

_“I miss having you here, the house is so quiet without you._ ” She sounds so small through the phone. Anakin wonders where in the house she is, leaning on her hip in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea, or in his room, sitting on his old bed? 

Either way, she is alone, and Anakin’s heart hurts. “I miss you too, I’ll be home soon.” 

_“Not soon enough, the dishwasher is broken and I’m waiting on you to repair it.”_

Anakin lets out a quick breath of air through his nose, almost a snort. “You can’t call someone?” He pulls out another thread, pinching it and resting it with the other one. 

Her tone is full of mirth. _“Not when I have you as a son, no.”_

He goes alone with her joke. “This is child labor, I’m going to report you someday.” 

_“You wouldn’t dare. You love me too much.”_

More loose threads. His hoodie is slowly unraveling now, full of messy edges. 

_I do, of course I do._ He can’t make out his small mountain of string, hot tears sting the edges of his eyes. “I guess.” 

She laughs. “ _I’ll let you get back to studying. Go ask that girl if she wants to study together, I can give you some cash to buy her a drink-”_

His breath is coming quick and unsteady, and the walls of the room are closing in on him. Somehow, he manages to keep his tone light. “Mom, stop, please.” They don’t have the cash, and Anakin hates that his mom is so desperate to see him have a girlfriend. Every well-meaning word feels like a new sliver pressed deep into his skin. 

_“Okay, I just want to see you happy.”_ He’s tearing at his hoodie fervently now, and hears something snap: a thread probably. 

“I know, I just don’t need dating advice from my mother.”

She snorts, and Anakin knows she would be mussing his hair if he’d been there in person. _“You need it from someone.”_

“Hey!” 

_“Okay, go study.”_

He falters, and realizes he doesn’t want to hang up, because he’s so used to having her _right there._ Homesickness punches him mercilessly in the gut. He almost keens with the startling longing to be sitting in the kitchen with her like normal, not fourteen hundred miles away. Not alone, in an unfamiliar room. Not consumed by the feeling of _bad bad bad, everything wrong._

“ _You know I’ll always love you, right_?” Her voice lowers, crackles in the phone, as if she could sense his melancholy, tone sweet and caring; it’s the perfect icepick to crack through Anakin’s heart of glass. He shatters. 

He takes a quick breath in, lets it out slowly, imagining all of the guilt and self-hatred and homesickness flowing out of him. “Yeah, mom.” His eyes close, and there is only darkness and the sound of his mom’s gentle breathing in his ear. “I love you, too. I’ll talk to you soon.” The line goes dead, and then there is nothing. 

He feels like two people sometimes, being ripped in opposite directions, tearing him apart. There’s a cavernous _ache_ to make his mom happy, because after everything she’s done for him, all the unconditional love she’s shown him, she deserves it. She deserves to see Anakin get married, have kids, find a loving woman to balance him out. It isn’t like it’s _her_ fault that he’s like this. And fuck, Anakin loves her with everything in him. But on the other hand, he is finally poking air holes in the cave that held him captive for the first eighteen years of his life, and he’s never realized how delicious it can be to breath deeply. He doesn’t know if he could even go back to suffocating if he wanted to. 

He takes a shaky breath, dragging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, sliding them into his hairline as he lowers his head in between his knees, forming a small ball out of himself. The room is so big, and such a fucking mess, and he is but a detail in it, another piece of furniture held together only by sadness and longing. 

They used to be so happy together: so many cups of family tea brewed together, Anakin resting his forearms on the edge of the stove to watch the water boil, batting her hands away, insisting that he pour the water over the tea leaves. Racing out of his room to show her his new project scrapped together from used parts found around town, glowing with excitement to lecture her about what it does and why it works, despite her not understanding a single thing. Her, gingerly popping her head in the door to bring him and his friends fruit slices and chips with twinkly eyes, not minding when Anakin would groan in embarrassment. The two of them, bundled up in the purple ombre of a winter morning, ready to drive out to Flagstaff just to go sledding, shrieking in laughter when they inevitably crash and tumble off their sleds crafted from trash lids. 

All his memories feel tainted now, knowing that he only shared a portion of himself with her, and that all her laughter, all her love, only belong to that piece of him. He just... _wishes_. Wishes that he could make his mom happy while also being genuinely himself. 

But he knows that it isn’t possible and knows, deep down, that he’s going to put himself first, let himself love and be loved by a man, and knows that the insidious voice inside of him whispering _selfish selfish selfish_ is going to eat him alive. 

______

**_To: Padme (a queen) 3:44 PM_ **

_are you free to talk soon? i miss your ugly mug, loser_

**_To: Padme (a queen) 3:46 PM_ **

_hey actually can i call you right now? i could really use someone to talk to_

_________

The drizzle of the rain outside pattering against the windows foggy with condensation made the inside of the coffee shop that much warmer, the place bustling with students and families from the community, the hum of conversation and low beat of the music adding to the cozy environment. Anakin and Ahsoka, along with Rey, Finn, and Poe had long since shed their wet coats, which sat dripping onto the aged wood flooring as the group studied, or at least pretended to. 

“Hey, you sure you don’t want anything?” Ahsoka leans into Anakin’s personal space from her spot across from him, her eyes checking his face for any signs of a lie. 

He shifts, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “No, I’m good ‘Soka. Thanks though.” 

She studies him for a moment. “Okay, I’ll get you a hot chocolate.” 

“No-” 

“Too late.” She scoots her chair back and grabs her wallet, heading towards the line to order. He appreciates the gesture, and her taking care of him, but it’s embarrassing not being able to afford something as simple as a hot drink. 

He should be working on a math assignment, another required class for freshmen, but instead he is sneaking glances at Finn and Poe across the table, doing his best to act like he is simply lost in thought as he watches their stolen touches, inside jokes, and caring, mindless caresses. _It’s all so natural to them,_ Anakin thinks, and bites the inside of his cheek. He wonders what it would be like, to have something like that. 

Poe catches his eye. “What’s up, buddy?” 

Anakin sits a little straighter, embarrassed at being caught. “How did you guys meet?”

Poe’s eyes widen, he sets his pen down, nudges Finn to pay attention. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. Turns out this guy-” he wraps an arm around Finn’s shoulders “-never learned how to drive-”

Finn is indignant. “I know how to-” he turns to Anakin “-don’t believe a word this idiot says. I just didn’t have anyone to move my stuff across town, and we had a mutual friend who set me up with him since he has a truck and then he offered to drive me anywhere if I needed him to, and so we became friends.” 

Poe scoffs. “I offered to drive you if you needed help moving more stuff, not for errands. But then it was ‘Poe, pick me up?’ and ‘Poe, can you drive me across the state to see the ocean?’ and-” 

“You _wanted_ to see the ocean with me.” 

Poe softens.“I did.” 

Finn rolls his eyes, and shrugs Poe’s arm off. “Basically, he drove me places and we fell in love. Rose wanted to kill us, it took so long to figure out we liked each other.” 

“Liked each other? What are we, twelve?” Poe laughs.

Finn presses his lips together, and ignores him. “And now we’ve been dating for two whole miserable years.” 

Poe is laughing, his eyes full of love as he takes in Finn’s expression. “Miserable, huh? I can show you miserable.” He sneaks an arm down to Finn’s side, pinching him in his middle, making Finn squawk. 

Anakin laughs along with them, though he can’t help but feel like the third wheel, like the odd one out, and he’s sure his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He shuffles his math homework around, scratching the back of his neck. “Sounds like it was meant to be.” 

Poe smirks. “What about you? Attractive man like yourself, you got a girlfriend?” 

All the blood in Anakin’s body rushes to his face. His ears feel hot. “You think I’m attractive?” he asks, before his brain catches up with body, and follows with: “Oh, no, I don’t… not right now.” He glances over toward Rey, who looks like she is actively trying not to be part of the conversation, but is listening anyways. Her whole body is tense, waiting, interested. 

“Well, objectively, you’re a good looking dude, yeah.” Finn elbows him, and Poe raises his arms in a _what?_ motion. “And too bad, but I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding one. Hey, we have a few friends-” 

“No, really,” Anakin stammers out, “I’m, that’s...I’m okay. But thanks.” 

Poe’s forehead crinkles a little bit at Anakin’s refusal, a curious look in his eye. Anakin somehow both wants him to guess it, and yet doesn’t want him to know. 

Ahsoka, with her god given sense of timing, arrives back at the table with a white ceramic mug of hot chocolate, which she places into Anakin’s waiting hands. It’s hot, he sets it on top of his homework, smiling at her in thanks. 

There are so many emotions in his chest right now. Their story was cute, heartwarming, and where Anakin should feel warmth, there is a sort of chill, biting away at him. Jealousy. 

“Did I tell you what Ventress did this week?” She asks, sliding back into her seat. 

He gives a half-hearted _hm?_

“She got drunk and hooked up with this guy in our dorm, but he puked all over her,” Anakin makes a face, “I know, right? So she took his clothes to wear and made him walk home in his underwear. She’s a menace, Skyguy. I can’t believe I have to live with her for a whole _year._ ” Ahsoka is somewhere between incredulous and hapless, but Anakin can tell that she’s joking. 

“Wait, she hooked up with him in your dorm? Where were you?” 

Ahsoka waves a hand in the air, dismissive. “Oh, next door at Barriss’. She’s cool with it, let me crash in bed with her.” 

Anakin stares down at his hot chocolate. “That’s good.” 

Ahsoka leans to the side to catch his eye, demeanor shifting into concern. “Anakin, I just said I slept next to Barriss, it’s more than good.” She kicks him under the table. “Are you feeling okay?” 

He startles, meets her concerned gaze. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, I’m…” his attention flits Finn and Poe, just briefly, but enough for Ahsoka to notice, “good.” 

And, as if the gay gods above were not plotting already, the thick, wooden door to the coffee shop swings open, chimes rattling, and in walks the beautiful library employee who almost took his toes out. 

His hair is wet from the rain, plastered down to his forehead, making him look like a drowned kitten. A forest green windbreaker is zipped clear up to his chin, completed with dark blue jeans, a pair of pointy leather shoes, and a messenger bag. He’s looking up at the menu, scooting himself into line, and Anakin takes the moment to really look at him. He has a scruffy beard, swoopy hair, and a mole, right on his forehead. Anakin has the strangest urge to find the nearest towel and dry him off, make sure he doesn’t get sick. 

_Fucking hell,_ he thinks, _I have a crush on someone who’s name I don’t even know. How much sadder can I get?_

Ahsoka is waving a hand across his face. “Hello? Earth to Skyguy? What were you” -she swivels in her chair to see what he was focusing on- “oh” -turns back to him- ” _oh” -_ and pulls her cheeks back like the cheshire cat. “Do you know him?” 

“No, I don’t.” He answers, and her face falls. 

“Well, I know he works at the library. He was shelving books, the other day.” 

She lights up. “What if he’s the tea man?”

He shakes his head, dismissing the idea altogether. “He doesn’t even know I exist, no.” 

“I still can’t believe you drank that shit, twice. Didn’t anyone tell you about party drugs?” 

This time he kicks her under the table. “It’s _tea,_ it’s a pretty harmless drink.” 

She kicks him back in the shin even harder, causing him to yelp. A few heads turn at the noise, including library man. 

The man’s eyes are a breathtaking shade of ghostly blue, and Anakin’s consciousness feels like it’s hovering a few inches above his body, so self aware under the scrutiny of eye contact. Anakin always thought the whole _world-grinds-to-a-halt_ moments in stories were nonsense, fiction created because reality sucked, but right now, staring into his eyes, the whole building could’ve been on fire and he would not notice. 

And then the man’s attention is no longer on him, staring back up at the menu, and the trance Anakin was held under snaps, sending him into a freefall. He lands right into Ahsoka’s inquisitive stare. 

He takes a sip of his hot chocolate, his mouth suddenly very dry. 

“I should really get this done.” He motions to his math homework, not looking her in the eye. She snorts. 

And he does, surprising himself with the speed and accuracy of his answers. The group is in a lull, everyone focused on their own thing, all together but separate. It’s nice, he thinks, to be surrounded like this. Before pulling out his laptop to start on his essay for the week a bit early, he studies the faces of his newfound friends for just a heartbeat, can’t help but smile down at his laptop. 

A whole cup of cocoa and a few hundred words later, he leans back to stretch, his head swimming, wading through the post-writing sludge. Everyone is still hunched where they had been before. His neck cracks. 

He does a quick scan of the shop, crestfallen when it is empty of one attractive library man, who must’ve gotten his coffee and left earlier. Some part of him hoped that he would still be sitting here, that they would get a chance to finally talk. _About what, Anakin?_ He curses himself. _Don’t be silly._ As he stretches, he realizes the cup of cocoa is catching up to his bladder.

He scoots his chair out. “Gonna go pee,” he tells Ahsoka, who is only partially paying attention. 

It’s an easy path to the bathroom, and he swings the door open, picks a urinal to relieve himself in, not paying any attention to whoever is in the bathroom with him. 

A big mistake. 

He zips up his fly and turns to the sink, to wash his hands. The sink, where library man is currently standing, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. When he looks up and they make eye contact in the mirror, Anakin seriously considers bolting with dirty hands. The other man decides for him though, stepping aside and offering the sink up to Anakin with a loose gesture, grabbing for a paper towel. 

Behind him, library man keeps peeking at him in the mirror. They make eye contact again and Anakin has to say _something._

“Library, right?” Anakin asks, holding the eye contact in the grimy mirror. The man startles, and comes to attention, a polite smile pushing his cheeks higher on his face. His face is so kind. _Fuck._

The man wipes his hands on the paper towel and grimaces. “Yes, I almost ran you over with a cart, my apologies.” 

“That’s okay, you can run me over anytime.” Anakin’s _idiot_ brain supplies. 

Pink tinges the man’s ears, eyebrows leaping up, his mouth a perfect _o_ of surprise. Someone opens the door between them, breaking the moment. Library man grabs the handle, lets the guy duck between them. “I should-“

Anakin coughs. “Yeah, I’ll see you-

“See you at the library.”

“-later.” 

And then he is gone. 

Anakin wants to step into the toilet and flush himself down the drain like the piece of dumb shit he is. _You can run me over any time? Who says shit like that? What was he thinking?_

He finishes washing his hands, half heartedly drying them and tossing the paper in the trash, lingering in the bathroom in fear that hot library man hasn’t left the shop yet. Anakin doesn’t think he would be able to look him in the eye right now. 

After a good few minutes, with his heartbeat tangible in all of his extremities, he cracks the door, browsing the crowd in a manner he really hopes seems casual. No library man.

His seat seems warmer than when he had left. So does the coffee shop, actually. Did someone turn the heat on, or something? He tugs at his shirt, letting air flow into it. 

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow. “Things a little steamy in the bathroom?” 

Maybe he should step outside and cool off in the rain, and find a nice puddle of water to drown himself in. 

______

Later that night, alone in his dorm, he lies alone in bed, eyes wide open in the darkness, listening to the opaque sounds of students coming home from parties, yelling with their friends, or strolling past his door, up late studying. A microwave beeps in their lounge. Someone cackles loudly outside in the distance. A door thuds shut nearby, reverberating down the hallway.

He can’t sleep. 

Like a mountain road late at night, with no turn arounds or stop signs, he travels past all the little houses of thoughts that live in his forest, each one home to a different set of ideas. 

_One holds Rey, and each room is filled with sadness, guilt, shame. He should do better by her, before she sets fire to the place in justified anger._

_Another holds Finn and Poe. The space inside is orange, radiating bliss, felicity, and there’s so many blankets and pillows, good food and hot tea. Anakin wants to live there with them._

_And yet another holds the library man. There’s only two rooms in this house: a bedroom and a study. The man is lying on the bed when Anakin walks in, each startled to see each other._

Anakin’s dick twitches at the thought of him, and blood burns through his whole body, a mixture of humiliation and arousal. He doesn’t even know the man, he shouldn’t do this to him. And yet:

_In the room, in the fake little house in the woods, Anakin wanders further into the bedroom, never letting his gaze wander from the man’s pale eyes, already feeling naked from the look of pure desire that holds his eyelids half open. He’s shirtless, lying on his back, a healthy flush on his chest, creeping up into his neck and cheeks, the color nearly hiding all the freckles that scatter the expanse. Anakin wonders what it would be like to taste that skin, wonders if he can get it to turn any darker. A bruise for each freckle._

Anakin shamefully lowers a hand into his waistband, palming his half-hard cock, his breath hitching at the image. 

_The man rolls onto his side and reaches for Anakin’s waistband with a languid grin, tugging him towards the bed by his belt loops. Anakin staggers forward, legs hitting the side of the bed, falling onto extended arms. The man tugs again, sharply, and Anakin gets the message. He scrambles onto the bed to straddle him, losing his shirt in the process, and comes to rest on all fours above him. The feeling of skin on skin is immaculate. Anakin makes good on his earlier speculation and leans down into the crook of his neck, sucking hard, a tidal wave of possessiveness slamming into him at the sight of the fresh bruise, red and angry. The man moans at the pain, bucking his hips up into Anakin’s, their cocks rubbing together through the fabric of their pants._

Anakin, lost in his fantasy, is stroking himself fully now, tiny gasps tumbling out of him every time he works over his head. He kicks off the covers and yanks his boxers down to give himself better access, hissing at the cool air, threading his other hand down to ghost at his entrance, rubbing his middle finger in small circles. 

_The man’s auburn hair cascades across the pillow, his chin held up, offering more of his neck to Anakin. But Anakin wants to know what it would be like to sink down and undo his pants, watch his cock bounce free, slide him into his open and wanting mouth, taste him, choke on him. Wants to hear his high-pitched, uneven breathing as he struggles to hold back heady moans, a fist in Anakin’s hair, shuddering as he comes into Anakin’s mouth. Wants to hear a babble of praises thrown at him, because he’d be so good for this man, would treat him so well._

Anakin is shaking, shiny with sweat as he comes into his own hand, stuttering around an _oh god, yeah, yeah_ as he trembles through the sensation. 

The white hot bliss only lasts for a moment though, and as it leaves, contrition and sorrow fill its space. The urge to cry wells up in his throat, choking him. 

That stupid house doesn’t exist. It never will, because there is no one who loves Anakin, especially not the man in question. No matter how bad he wants it, is filled up to the brim with longing for it, there is no one who loves him, not in the way he wants.

Anakin feels punched in the gut, wrung out, completely hollow. Distantly, he knows he should clean up his mess and wash his hands, but apathy chains him to the mattress. There’s so many happy couples around him, bumping shoulders with him on campus every day. Why is he exempt from that reality? What about him is so unlovable? Has a guy ever even had a crush on him before? 

All these fantasies, and for nothing. It’s not like he’s ever had sex with a guy before, hasn’t even come close. If, _when,_ he does, he’ll be a nervous wreck, so utterly incompetent and _such_ a virgin, which at his age, is embarrassing. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, he knows there’s plenty of other people who haven’t done anything yet. But… he can’t help but feel like he should know more, be more experienced. 

He feels sticky and gross and ashamed about masturbating to the image of some poor guy he’s met once, his skin prickling in the cold, heat dissipating off his skin rapidly. He definitely won’t be able to look him in the eye now. 

_Run me over anything indeed_ , Anakin thinks, covering his face with his pillow. 

_______

**_From: Padme (a queen) 3:03 PM_ **

_I’m sorry I missed your call the other day! Did something happen? :(  
Stay warm! I still can’t believe you went to school somewhere so cold. Looking forward to seeing you over winter break, you’re coming home right? I know it’s a long way off but I just want to make sure I’ll see you before I head off for my internship next year!   
Anyways, lots of love. Tell Ahsoka I say hi :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets all drop an F in the chat for flustered baby gay anakin


End file.
